The Little Engine That Couldn't
by catchingmoonss
Summary: Blaine always overestimates how much he can drink and Kurt is left on clean-up duty. College!Klaine. Fluff.


**Author's Note: Obviously, characters belong to Fox and Ryan Murphy. I'm a sucker for a drunk Blaine, enjoy~~**

"Drink up, Anderson, don't even try to hide that three."

Kurt rolled his eyes at Sam, wishing the game would just _end_ already because Blaine had already consumed more alcohol than he planned.

"_Don't worry, I'm not even going to drink a lot. I just want to blow off some steam, first week of classes and all."_

Sure, that's what Blaine said an hour ago when they'd arrived at Sam's apartment. Not that he cared how much Blaine drank—he was used to his light-weight fiance by now—but it sometimes got tiresome taking care of him once they got back as he heaved the night's contents of alcohol into the toilet bowl. Because Kurt had a long week, too—unlike Blaine, he was no longer a student—and maybe he wanted to get a decent night's sleep.

But as Blaine chugged the cup of what he was sure was warm beer by now, he saw the prospect of a comfortable night of sleep get tossed out the window.

Maybe dating a college senior while he himself was out in the working world would be tougher than previously thought.

Eventually the game ended and the small group of mostly Blaine and Sam's NYU friends made their way to a bar a few blocks over near the apartment in the Village. Kurt mentally prepared himself for a night full of obnoxious college kids. After all, it _was_ Blaine's night to choose their destination so Kurt swallowed his desires to go somewhere relatively classy or mature and let Blaine have his fun.

Waiting in line for the bar, Blaine hung on Kurt, head resting on his shoulder, glazed-over eyes roving his face.

Kurt smirked.

"God, Blaine, you have drunk written all over your face," he teased, peering down at him.

Blaine stared at Kurt, brows furrowed and eyes full of concern.

"Wha—I do? How'd tha get there?" he said, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand.

Kurt bit his lip and just stared at Blaine for a moment, soaking in his little unexpected bit of vengeance.

"Did I get it?"

"Hmm, not quite, right over here—" He pointed to a spot on his forehead. "Okay, all set."

Blaine breathed a sigh of relief.

Kurt shook his head at Blaine. He found it difficult to stay mad at Blaine for a long stretch of time, especially when alcohol was thrown into the mix. His typical adorableness got cranked up to a whole new volume when intoxicated. At least it made what Kurt was sure to come later on in the night a little bit better.

Finally, the bouncer let the group in to the already packed bar. Pop music blared over the speakers but the chatter of the crowd drowned out the words leaving the vague melody of a Katy Perry song in its wake. Kurt inwardly groaned at the crowd chock full of frat boys with girls nearly hanging on their biceps.

"C'mon, less go get a drink," Blaine slurred, tugging Kurt's arm.

"Not so fast there, my wannabe frat boy," Kurt said, pulling Blaine back to him.

Blaine pouted. "Why not? Look how sober I am."

He lifted his right arm straight out to the side and then bent it with what Kurt figured was the intent of touching the tip of his nose. However, he overshot it completely, ended up landing on his left cheek, and dragged it across to the original destination.

At that Kurt laughed out loud.

"See? The boys in blue have nothing on Blaine Anderson," he hiccupped, resting both of his arms on Kurt's shoulders, leaving their noses centimeters apart.

"Oh yes, of course, you could pass any field sobriety test right now without a doubt," Kurt played along, grabbing Blaine by the waist. "But…I think my fiance owes me a dance before he does anything else."

Blaine's eyes lit up, hands sliding down to meet Kurt's, and pulled him to the middle of the room. For what Kurt assumed were the next three or four songs, he and Blaine danced, Kurt amused by Blaine's definition of dancing once he had alcohol in his system. The usual self-awareness Blaine carried about him completely vanished, replaced by utter disregard for what anyone thought of him. In a way, Kurt liked it, liked seeing Blaine relax and not give a damn what others thought for once.

Kurt didn't mind being sober when they went out. He usually chose to not drink, or at least only have one or two drinks, simply because he hated feeling like he had no control. It never bothered him, though, that Blaine didn't share this preference, especially since this year was it for him. After that he'd have to join Kurt in the real world where drinking every single night of the week wasn't exactly an option.

And not to mention, Kurt now had _so_ many stories over Blaine.

"Kuuuurt. Kurt. Can I drink now?"

Blaine had his arms wrapped around Kurt's waist, head rested on his shoulder but tilted upward to face Kurt.

"Okay, fine. One drink though, mister! And then that's it," he chastised, pecking Blaine on the forehead.

Like clockwork, Sam came over then, hands laden with two pitchers of frothy beer. He doled out the cups to the group and filled them to the top. Kurt wrinkled his nose at the smell, already planning on sticking Blaine on the couch. No way would he be able to fall asleep with Blaine reeking of beer next to him.

A half-hour later and Kurt found himself chatting with Sam, talking about some girl that lived in the apartment next door that he had a bit of a crush on.

"I mean she's…she's like _really_ pretty, dude. Like…not just pretty but _pretty_, you know?"

Kurt nodded. "Completely."

"Wait that's—that's her right there! But, oh, she's talking to someone. She looks all flirty too. Man. Probably a stupid boyfriend…"

But upon closer inspection Kurt realized that the dark head of hair wasn't some stranger but—

"Blaine!" he said, not sure whether he wanted to laugh or shout because there was a slender blond girl leaning against Blaine, one hand placed firmly on his chest.

Before he heard what Sam had to say, Kurt was already marching over to the opposite end of the room where they stood. He slid his arm through Blaine's, holding it tightly against him.

The girl shot him daggers.

"Hey, Kurt," Blaine said. "Oh Kurt this is Kate, Kate this is Kurt."

But Kate didn't say a word, her sharp expression fading to confusion.

And then to help her out, Kurt added, "His fiance."

Clearly Kate had been misinformed about Blaine because not soon after she had moved on to the hulking mass of a guy standing near them.

"Oh. I liked her. I told her I liked her shirt. It's a really nice shirt, right?" Blaine asked, a bit crestfallen.

"Mhm," Kurt agreed despite the fact that the girl's shirt could hardly be called a shirt and was more along the lines of a bra.

"Hey, Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"I, um, I don't feel too good."

Kurt resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Did you have more than one drink?"

The look Blaine gave Kurt told him everything he needed to know.

"Okay, sweetie, let's go," he said, saving the I-told-you-so's for when Blaine wasn't about to vomit all over his brand new Cole Haan shoes.

Blaine nodded his head weakly. They found Sam and made sure he'd get back all right and then exited the bar.

The fresh air felt incredible, like walking out of a sauna. They made it back to their apartment somewhat easily, Kurt supporting most of Blaine's weight. He unlocked the door, grateful that their building at least had air-conditioning despite the lack of an elevator.

Immediately, Blaine bolted to the bathroom, life flooding into him for the five seconds it took him to get to where he'd likely be spending most of the night. By the time Kurt made it in, Blaine had already starting retching. His fingers clutched the sides of the toilet and Kurt's heart constricted as it did every time even though Blaine always did it to himself. No matter what the cause, he hated seeing Blaine in any pain.

He knelt down beside him and rubbed his back soothingly.

"Shhh, it's okay," he whispered, combing his fingers through Blaine's gel-free curls, a sheen of sweat already glistening on his forehead.

For the next hour they stayed like that, Blaine afraid to leave the bathroom in case another wave of nausea returned. Eventually, Kurt coaxed him into his pajamas and then his bed, abandoning his previous plans to make him sleep on the couch. Once Blaine was tucked in, Kurt replaced his clothes with a pair of Blaine's boxers and an NYU tee and slid in beside him.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Kurt wrapped around Blaine, tugging him close. Blaine shivered slightly against him, legs curled up to his chest.

"'M sorry," Blaine mumbled, turning in his arms and nuzzling his head into Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt brushed a few curls out of his eyes and rubbed his thumb against his temple. And here was Blaine, vulnerable and shaking and _sorry_ and every ounce of anger or annoyance he held before completely washed out of him.

"It's okay. That's what I'm here for."

And he hugged Blaine tighter.


End file.
